"Take a guess about what I'm owl ordering Mr Potter. I have yourself and Mr Black in detention with me every night for the next two weeks, of course it's a case of Ogden's Finest!"- Minerva McGonagall to James Potter, during the first detention of many, September 1970.

Chapter 2:

Magic is real.

Three little words completely and irrevocably changed Harry's life. The world finally made sense. The greatest questions that had plagued his life now had answers. All it took was the impossible being in fact, possible.

He had no doubts that the woman who had shattered his world view was telling the truth. Others might have asked for a demonstration from the woman, demanding that their senses confirm her words. Harry didn't need anything of the sort. He knew. Her speaking those words to him had unveiled something intrinsic to his being, an irrefutable fact that he would never even dream of denying from here on out. Magic. Was. Real. The dozens of random and inexplicable events now had explanations. The feeling that he'd always had deep down, that there was more to the world than what he could see. That longing for that which he didn't know and didn't understand. The works of fantasy and intrigue he'd always inexplicably found himself drawn to.

'If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.' In the recesses of his mind Harry laughed. He'd finally found his other world.

Harry sat stunned in his chair for what must have been minutes. Professor McGonagall was polite enough to give him this time in peace as his mind dealt with clarity for the first time. When he gained a hint of awareness once more he noted the slight look of amusement adorning her features. His reaction clearly wasn't a new experience for the woman.

"Do you need more time Mr Evans?"

Harry shook his head in the negative. "No, I'm good. Well, I think I am; it's a lot to take in."

The ageless woman nodded along, seemingly sympathetic to his situation. "You are not the first individual I have had the pleasure to introduce to magic and you will not be the last, your reaction is not uncommon from what I've seen."

Harry reached over to the letter opener Beth had on her desk and picked up the discarded letter he'd let slip from his fingers. "So what is this?"

"Your acceptance letter, Mr Evans. Go ahead and open it and I'll answer any questions you may have."

Harry opened the thick envelope and pulled out two thick sheets of parchment from within and began reading.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)

Dear Mr Evans,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

To say that Harry had questions would be the understatement of a lifetime. Even with knowing magic was real, the letter in his hands was beyond confusing. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" The words, while familiar to him, sounded foreign on his tongue.

"Yes Mr Evans, Hogwarts. I know the name doesn't inspire a great deal of confidence given the nomenclature you're familiar with, but I assure you it is the preeminent school for magical education in Europe." Professor McGonagall spoke about this 'Hogwarts" with a mixture of fondness and pride from what Harry could tell. She was right though, the name itself was bizarre to say the least, absurd if he was being honest. Absurdity would be his new anthem if it meant he was given the chance to learn magic.

"Who is this... Albus Dumbledore?" Harry had to glance back down at the paper to ensure he got the name correct. "Obviously he's the headmaster but that's an impressive list of titles even if I haven't a clue what they mean."

"Albus Dumbledore is in the simplest of terms a hero. A national hero more than anything, but also one respected on a global scale." The Professor seemed to sit even straighter when talking about the man she worked directly underneath. "He's a war hero, a politician, magical researcher, and an educator all at once. You can look up the specifics of his titles at a later time but suffice to say, Albus Dumbledore is truly a one of a kind man, and one I am proud to know personally."

Harry was surprised to hear the genuine passion in the woman's voice. He'd expected respect, but awe? He made a mental note to look into the man further as soon as he could, along with the multiple wars he'd apparently been involved in. Not that he'd expected otherwise, but learning that even magic didn't take away mankind's base desire to slaughter itself only minutes after learning about magic was a sobering experience.

Though Harry had more questions than he could possibly give voice to about magic the letter only left him with one more. "What does it mean 'we await your owl'? A term I'm unfamiliar with?"

"In our world we use magical owls to deliver letters or other small parcels," she said.

Harry's gut instinct was to once again find the notion of relying on the effect simile of carrier pigeons utterly ridiculous. "And that's efficient?" He tried to hold the skepticism out from his voice but it was for naught.

"I know the non-magical world has made many advancements, Mr Evans. But I would encourage you to keep an open mind when stepping into the world of magic. Right now you are ignorant of its capabilities, of what is possible and not, you are a babe taking his first steps. Questions, I encourage you to ask. Judgment, I suggest you reserve until later." Professor McGonagall censure was firm but not unkind. The educator in the woman had already shined through with her remarks. Well, if she wanted an inquisitive student he'd be happy to oblige.

"Apologies, Professor, you're right, it was hasty of me to judge." Message received Teach', don't apply standard logic to magic. "How are owls the most efficient method of delivery?"

Professor McGonagall approval of his change in tone was evident by how enthusiastically she answered him. "Multiple reasons Mr Evan. For one they're frightfully intelligent creatures. All owls are of course, but the ones bred for use in delivery even more so. They can deliver a letter to anyone, anywhere. The conditions that you would imagine that would impact their ability to do so, such as weather or distance, never seem to matter. Give them a week at most and your letter will have arrived to whom you addressed it to."

The answer, while satisfactory at a glance, only gave way to more questions. "You sound as if you don't understand how the magic of owls works?"

"That's because I don't, Mr Evans – in fact almost no one does, the guild of owl breeders guard their secrets closely. As is true of many branches of magic and many fields." A wistful expression crossed her face as she spoke of guarded knowledge. "Hogwarts has much to teach you, even if we can't teach you everything."

Harry had no desire to learn everything, he honestly didn't care how magical owls were bred, but he resolved then and there that if there was something he wished to learn, he would. Guarded secrets be damned.

"On the other sheet you'll find a list of your courses and necessary books and equipment for your first year."

Harry glanced at the second sheet of paper and noted the long list of things he would need to purchase in order to attend. His slight grimace was immediately noticed by the woman seated next to him. "What's the problem, Mr Evans?"

Gods above I hope they have scholarships or financial aid. "It's the ah, books and equipment, Ma'am. That's a sizable list and I don't think I'll be able to afford them, not even counting the cost of actually attending your school..."

Harry expected the Deputy Headmistress to react with a familiar understanding when confronted with a student that had financial concerns. The woman instead had her own grimace that quickly took hold of her features. "Mr Evans, what I'm about to speak with you about isn't something I will be doing in the role of an educator, but instead as a family friend."

There was an immediate change in Harry's demeanor. The polite and excited persona turned guarded and suspicious. "What 'family', Professor? Would that be the Dursleys?" The sheer venom in Harry's tone caused the woman to visibly appear taken back.

"No, Mr Evans. Your estranged aunt and uncle play no part in what I have to say."

"Then who-?"

"Your parents."

Harry's words of protest ceased before they left his tongue. His parents. Faceless entities, one of which he didn't even have a name for; he wished the emotions were less muted. "They died when I was one. Beth helped me inquire about a will with the Dursleys years ago, there was nothing. All I have is my mother's name."

Professor McGonagall seemed stunned at his proclamation. "Only your mother's name?"

Try as he might Harry couldn't help the years of bitterness from coming out. Every orphan has scars, he was no exception. "Lily Evans, the name of my mother, the name of the woman who died when I was one, that's all I have."

For the first time since he'd met the woman she seemed unsure of what to say. The mix of shock and grief present in her voice clued Harry in that she had an entirely different expectation for this meeting. "There's a lot I have to tell you Mr Evans, and if your reaction thus far is a judge you aren't going to like most of what I have to say."

The moment the Professor mentioned his family Harry knew the conversation had taken a turn. For as long as he could remember he'd shoved aside the feelings he knew he had. The hatred for his aunt and uncle, the longing for his mother, the apathy for his father he didn't even know the name of. Every time he noticed them he buried them down deeper. Harry Evans didn't have parents. Harry Evans didn't have any blood relatives. It was easier that way, less painful. All it took was one woman to bring all those buried emotions back to the surface. One woman to share with him the parts of his life that he couldn't remember.

OoooOoooO

"What are they talking about in there?"

"That woman is here to talk to Harry about school."

"School? He's smart but I don't think he's ready for University."

"No no, some kind of boarding school in the Scottish highlands."

"Boarding school? Like Eton?"

"Something like that. I hope he's being respectful in there, this is quite the opportunity for him."

"Yeah, I guess it is."

OoooOoooO

Minerva McGonagall barely registered the polite farewell she paid to Bethany Morrison as she left the house, her mind encapsulated by the long, sorrowful conversation she'd had with Harry Evans. Merlin, they had failed that boy. Her first impressions of him were so positive. He was polite, excited by the prospect of education, and the way his face brightened when he realized magic was in the world. He reminded her so much of Lily in that moment, it was impossible not to see that he was her late student's son.

The boy presented such a stark contrast when she started talking about his family. He was so cold after that. She knew that she'd have to explain a lot, she knew from the beginning that he wasn't going to be happy, but she'd expected a teenage boy to be angry or demand answers, instead all she saw was a bitter resignation. There were more emotions raging inside, of that she was certain, but Harry Evans kept them locked away.

Her contemplation was brought to an end when she saw an elderly gentleman sitting on a bench lower his paper as she walked past. Dressed in a simple but nice navy suit, his long gray hair and lengthy but well trimmed beard had him easily blending in on the streets of London as he read his paper. "Pleasure to see you here, Minerva. Lovely weather we are having, is it not?" The weather really was quite superb. The odd cloud dotting the sky, but otherwise warm and sunny with a light breeze.

If she had run into any other wizard reading the muggle paper in muggle London she might've been surprised, but when it came to Albus Dumbledore she'd long since learned to stop being surprised. "Oh the weather is nice I suppose, pity the rest of my day has gone so poorly."

"Ah, the Spurs won their game last weekend. Shame I missed it. I wonder if there any good ones this evening? I could go for a nice pint and a good game."

Minerva almost laughed at the prospect of the Purebloods on the Wizengamot if they could see Albus now. The eccentric man was genuinely fond of spending time in the muggle world every few months. She'd always declined his invitations, she'd much rather nurse a bottle of Ogden's Finest in the comfort of her home. His eccentricities did have a way of pulling her out of the dour mood that had fallen over her since speaking with Harry Evans. The small smile on Albus' face told her that it was intentional on his part.

"Ask your questions, Albus. I appreciate you trying to improve my mood but that was a very difficult conversation."

Albus Dumbledore sighed and put away his paper. "I imagine it was Professor. Harry Evans' past is one wrought with strife, but he did need to learn of it. I am sorry that the burden of sharing said past to the boy was placed upon your shoulders."

"No, no, it's a part of my duties to bring muggle raised students their letters, the extenuating circumstances have no bearing on that front," she said as she waved away his apology. The situation wasn't normal, but she had her duties and she fulfilled them.

Albus hummed in agreement as he padded his pockets, probably in search of one of the lemon drops he always carries on his person. "I trust he took the news well? As well can be expected at least?"

"How is a boy learning that he has a brother he never knew that was raised by a godmother he's never met supposed to react? I think Harry Evans not immediately demanding we all go curse ourselves is a pretty damn good reaction!" She took the offered tissue from Albus' hands and dabbed the tears building in her eyes. "We failed him, Albus."

"That we did, Minerva." Albus Dumbledore was a man that didn't look his age in the slightest, but at that moment his eyes reflected a man who'd lived longer and seen more than most that walked the Earth. "I have made more mistakes than I care to remember, but all we can do is try and do better. For Harry's sake, for the sake of any other child who's care falls unto us."

Minerva appreciated the heartfelt platitude but it didn't help assuage her guilt in the slightest. James and Lily should have been able to count on their friends and family to protect and care for their two boys in the wake of their deaths, instead one was left to grow up in foster care alone. They deserved all the blame the boy could hoist upon them.

"Did he agree to meet with Daniel and the Longbottoms?" Albus asked.

"I passed along the letter Alice had written, beyond that it wasn't my place."

"You are correct, it would be rude to pry. We can only hope their reunion goes well."

No voice was given to the doubts Minerva had towards the reunion between what should have been family. Harry Evans didn't strike her as a vindictive boy, but she would be hard pressed to believe that he would open his heart easily. Such was the case with any child that had to grow up looking after themselves.

When Minerva rose from the bench she noticed that Albus had started muttering to himself about the crossword puzzle. "Hmm, 'High-grade hard coal', nine letters."

"How do you do it Albus?" She asked, astonished.

"Do what, Minerva?"

"How do you go from mourning your failures one minute, to happily playing a game the next?" They had helped ruin Harry Evans' life. A boy that should've grown up loved and cared for, and it was on them that he didn't! Her critique of the man wasn't fair, she knew that, but in the haze of emotions that claimed her she lashed out at the only person she could. The only person nearby who was at fault alongside her.

"Would that I could change the past, Minerva. There was a little girl that died in 1900, I would love to see her alive and well today. She was only 13, and I am the reason she is dead."

Minerva had worked with Albus for over forty years. He'd been a mentor to her for more than a decade before that. She'd looked up to him since she was an eleven year old girl. Never had she seen him more grief stricken as in that moment.

"I had a lover once, passionate, inspired, and caring in his own way. He could have been such a force for good had I not help push him towards darkness. He killed more people than I could ever hope to count. Those deaths are on my hand."

Albus leaned back on the bench then, eyes fixated on the sky above. "There was a boy I knew. He had been neglected and bullied his entire life. When I met him I should have shown care and understanding, instead I gave him judgment and scorn. I was fuel on the fire of his hate and he eventually turned to murder and terrorism."

"Albus, I'm sorry. You don't have to-"

"We live in a cruel world, Minerva. Languishing away bemoaning this serves no one, neither us nor those we have failed."

Suitably chastised, Minerva nodded along to her mentor's words. "You are right, I know. I just... that's Lily's boy and-" she broke off with light sob at the thought of her favorite student. "I am going to go home now and pour myself some of Ogden's Finest, tonight I just need some time alone." Drinking would do little for her guilt long term, but right now she just wanted to forget.

Albus only offered a small smile as she stood to leave. She regretted lashing out at the man, but further platitudes were not what she wished to hear right now. Right before she left earshot she couldn't help the throaty chuckle as she heard her aged mentor exclaim in a satisfied voice "ah, anthracite!"

OoooOoooO

"He'll be leaving soon, won't he?"

"Probably dear, I've raised enough boys his age to tell when they're going to leave."

"I'm going to miss him... a lot."

"You're not alone there, dear. Harry may not realize it but the little ones are all quite fond of him."

"Will you miss him?"

"I miss every one of you kids when you walk out those doors, hon'."

OoooOoooO

The half filled bottle slipped from the young teen's fingers as he lounged against the bay windows. The night sky offered none of the comfort he often found on lonely evenings. Beth and Sarah had both reached out to him upon seeing him exit his meeting with the professor but had acquiesced to his firm desire to be left alone. The only company he wished to have then was whatever cheap rum he'd spirited away under his bed. His reliance on alcohol at such a young age might have been referred to as "unhealthy" by some, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The moment McGonagall had mentioned his 'family' he'd really needed a fucking drink.

James and Lily Potter had died defending Harry and his twin brother Daniel from a crazed terrorist. Said terrorist was miraculously defeated when he attempted to murder Daniel too, but his spell mysteriously backfired and killed him instead, leaving only a pile of ashes and a wand in his wake. So now his brother was internationally renowned as the "boy-who-lived" and had spent his life living in relative obscurity and safety with their godmother and her family.

Professor McGonagall had offered an explanation, a justification of why he was shipped off to the Dursleys instead of being kept with his brother and the woman who should have taken care of him. He'd heard, he just didn't care. The anger within had begged to be let out, the righteous rage at being cast aside had longed for release, to be used against those that had hurt him – those that had abandoned him! But when green eyes met the distraught face of the woman sharing his life story, when he saw the tear-stricken letter written by his godmother, all that washed over him was an embittered resignation.

Harry was mad, he couldn't lie to himself on that front, but it was a muted anger. It was difficult to feel anything towards a faceless entity whom he had no memory of who had wronged him. Alice Longbottom was an object of his enmity, but she wasn't there. He couldn't look into her eyes and cast aspersions on her at that time. All he had was a goddamn letter. Try as he might, Harry couldn't cast his emotions towards a fucking scrap of paper with a bit of ink stained onto it. At some point, maybe, he'd lay all of his righteous anger and vitriol at her feet, but at that moment, the prominent feeling that consumed him was nothing more than a spiteful, hollow anger that might as well have been aimless.

Daniel, his younger twin brother, was another matter entirely. What was he supposed to feel for someone who should have grown up alongside him? A brother whom he had never met in living memory, but still, he was family all the same right? Wasn't blood supposed to be thicker than water? Unfortunately, Harry was well aware of the original phrase that was so often misquoted. 'The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.' Daniel and he had literally shared a womb, but their bond was utterly nonexistent. Harry honestly wasn't sure how he'd react when he finally met his estranged twin.

The letter in his pocket seemingly grew heavier as he thought of the reunion he'd been asked to attend. He had no desire to sit down and listen to apologies and explanations about why he'd been tossed to the Dursleys' tender care. The past was the past, best to leave it there and move on. Harry would meet his godmother and twin at some point, hell, he'd likely grow to know them regardless of his opinion on the matter… but at that moment, the notion of sitting down for the express purpose of meeting them was practically anathema to him.

Harry shelved his thoughts of long-lost family to the wayside in favor of happier thoughts. Magic. McGonagall had given him the run-down on the magical district of London and how he could get there once he turned down her offer of escorting him. The trust-vault he had waiting for him at the bank was apparently more than enough to cover his day-to-day life expenses until he graduated from school. The Potters were quite a wealthy family once upon a time. Liquidating most of their assets during the war had cost them a lot, but it meant there was a very sizable amount of 'gold' sitting in the bank, and half of it was Harry's.

For the first time in my life, I honestly don't have to be concerned with finances, thanks Pops. Harry looked around the home he'd spent the last eight years at and felt only a sense of determination to move on. He'd board at a magical school for nine months and rent a flat for the other three. Though he'd certainly miss Beth, Sarah, and all the kids, it never crossed his mind that sticking close by was an option. For once he was the character in the fantasy book, this chance wasn't something he would pass up. Diagon Alley was his destination tomorrow. A sprawling magical town situated right in the heart of London. The cultural heart of magical society in this part of the world. Restaurants, taverns, shops, stalls, entertainment, and oddities. A smile came to his face at the thought of it. He knew London like the back of his hand, but a new town, a new culture that didn't follow the rules of logic? Harry couldn't wait to explore.

"Well at least you're smiling now. I thought that dour mood would hang over you 'til you died." Harry turned suddenly, surprised that he'd let Beth sneak up on him whilst lost in his own thoughts. She claimed the cushioned seat next to his and passed him a fag. All the kids must have been asleep, Beth always did her best to not let them see her smoke. "So, when are you leaving?"

Of course she knew what he was planning. "A few days, I'm going to get a few things settled in London and then I'm gone."

Beth opened the windows and held her cigarette aloft for him to light. "Always figured you'd leave young, you've got a spirit for adventure in you. So where are you going?"

For a brief moment Harry considered lying to the woman. A gut instinct born from his desire to hide the meager amounts of money he'd scrounged together over the years. But this was Beth. The woman who'd given him food and a place to live since he was seven. One of the only adults to ever show an ounce of genuine care for him. He exhaled and the let the nighttime air claim the smoke. "A boarding school in Scotland. Turns out my parents went there and the school has this thing about legacy students."

"Congratulations," Beth replied, "I know school has been weighing on your mind for the past year. I'm happy for you."

"I have an inheritance, too."

Beth startled at that. "Did your father leave you something?"

"Yeah, he and my mum, actually. Evans was her maiden name, they were married and my father had old, family money." Harry once more resolved to find out as much as he could about his family at first opportunity. He would likely always hold onto the name Evans, but he was still a Potter by blood, he would honor that.

"Huh, I think you're the first of my kids to come into an inheritance. Congratulations once more."

Harry kept his gaze locked on the night sky, obscuring his face from one of the few people who could claim to know him well. "I have a twin brother."

Beth took an extra long drag and reached for the discarded bottle of rum. "Christ, kid... any other bombs you would like to drop on me?"

My brother was raised by our godmother while I was sent to the fucking Dursleys. My godfather is in prison for life. My parents were murdered by a terrorist, and my brother is the hero who 'stopped' him. Those were details Harry was never going to share with someone ignorant of the magical world. Beth was a 'muggle', with neither a blood nor permanent legal relation to him. She would never know magic was real.

"That's all of them."

"Will your brother be going to the same school?" Beth asked, she'd taken a large swig from the bottle then passed it his way. Harry was never more thankful than at that moment that Beth didn't give a damn about conventional parenting techniques.

"Apparently so."

"That's good then, isn't it? Gives you two the chance to get to know each other. You're twins, you're bound to have something in common." Ah Beth, ever the optimist. Harry was far more skeptical of his ability to relate to his twin.

The two lapsed into an easy silence as they finished their smokes. The streets of London weren't particularly loud this late in the evening, the odd car and the sound of a distant train, the street lamps below contrasting with the light of the moon. Harry wasn't often one to stop and appreciate the simple things in life, but lounging in the window and finishing a bottle of rum with Beth was a good way to spend the evening. Harry lamented that he'd likely not do this with the aged woman again.

Beth smiled down at the black haired boy as she arose from her seat. "I'm proud of you, Harry. You'll succeed at whatever you apply yourself to, I know that."

Harry barely registered her softly spoken farewell. Beth's confidence in him served not as a groundbreaking resolution but a reminder. He. Would. Succeed. The world was at his fingertips and all he had to do was apply himself. Education, resources, money, opportunity. Gone was the poor orphaned child with no hope for the future. The world would know Harry Evans, he'd make sure of it.